


And Never Without Return

by rainedparade



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors
Genre: 10 Things, Fix-It, Gen, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9909911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainedparade/pseuds/rainedparade
Summary: 10 ways Loken could have been brought over to Horus' side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh _Throne_ , I am late to yet another fandom. I've been reading the novels for this nonstop and if anyone still wants to talk about Mournival shenanigans please let me know! Otherwise, hope you enjoy my random what-if-things-had-been-different take. Spread throughout the first three books, then _Vengeful Spirit_.

1\. starry-eyed

His closest friend comes to him one day, wide-eyed and out of breath.

"I've been asked, I've been asked!" Nero Vipus exclaims, bounding into Loken's arms. "Can you believe it? Me!"

"Asked?" Loken repeats, "Asked to do what, exactly?"

"To join! The silent order!"

"The -- the fraternity?" Loken fought between surprise that the order existed and jealousy that the other had been singled out. "You?"

"I can't believe it!" Nero beams up at him and all belittling thoughts flood away from him. This is his most beloved brother and had Loken not made the same swearing of brotherhood to him, as Nero had done for him?

Loken takes his hands and smiles. "That's amazing, congratulations! I -- I didn't even think it existed, but to think that you're joining..." he laughs, elbowing the other, "Don't forget about the little people when you're famous, alright?" The order which may or may not have existed boasted among its membership ranked members of their legion. Admission was one of the highest honors and Loken is, truly, glad for his brother.

"Forget you?" Nero asks, laughing, "How could I forget you! You're coming with me of course!"

That catches Loken off-guard.

"Me? Are you sure?"

And Nero gives him the world's biggest shit-eating grin.

"I can't say."

-

2\. for lack of a teacher

"Garvi!" Torgaddon greets, stumbling upon the other in the library. "I feel like I see you here so often!"

"Yes," Loken stiffly answers, still uncertain how a member of the Mournival -- and the captain of the second company -- was on first-name terms with him. "I never took you as a library person."

"I'm not," Torgaddon easily answers, flipping through a book, "And neither are you! I've watched you read and reread this passage for an hour!"

"Spying on me, now are you?" Loken retorts, taking on a teasing tone.

"You wish," Torgaddon grabs him by the arm, "C'mon, there's a wrestling match in fifteen minutes and I'm going to play the winner."

"So?"

"So I want you to come watch!"

"But I -- " Loken looks to his books.

"Oh come on, Garvi," the second captain huffs, "You can go back to your books right after!"

'The famed iterator Kyril Sindermann will be giving a speech in half an hour,' Loken wants to say. But really, how many other Luna Wolves were lucky enough to be personally invited to watch a member of the Mournival spar? He shakes his head and rights his priorities.

"Of course," he answers, flashing a wicked smile, "How could I miss the chance to see you lose?"

Torgaddon bemoans his cruelty all the way to the ring, but Loken never does find a second opportunity to see the famed Sindermann speak.

-

3\. missed opportunities

"Hello," the Remembrancer meekly says, poking her head from the corner, "My name is Mersadie Oliton and I'm a Remembrancer that's been assigned to the Sixty-third."

"Oh!" Torgaddon nearly topples from his bunk, smacking his head in penitence, "I knew I forgot something!" He pushes himself to his full height, completely towering over him, and grins, taking pleasure at her mortal surprise and discomfort. "What can I do for you, Miss Remembrancer?"

Their conversation lasts for ten minutes before Torgaddon presses the panic-button on his suit, sending one of his squadmates rushing in on supposed urgent business to rescue him from the bureaucracy of the conversation. The Remembrancer evidently has not had her fill of his life experiences but he waves her off with a careless gesture; there were stars to sail across and worlds to set aflame, after all.

-

4\. aborted attempt

"Hello? Is this the room of Captain Garviel Loken?"

Loken turns from his polishing to the figure at the doorway. It's a small mortal woman with dark skin and an elongated head.

"It is and I am he," he answers, raising an eyebrow, "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if I might ask you a couple questions about your time spent as a Luna Wolf..." she begins.

"Oh." Loken pauses, looking at his not-yet-finished gear. "Could this wait? I'm in the middle of something right now."

The woman gnaws at her lower lip, clearly on the brink of protesting.

Loken sighs.

"Fine. One question then, and then you'll go?"

"Yes, alright," she heaves a sigh of relief and steps past the threshold, "The other Astartes have told me that you have a very humorous recount of the time Horus slew the Emperor, if you could..." she pauses, feeling the temperature of the room drop three degrees at her question.

Loken swallows, keeping his whole body still. Then he exhales and sets his armor aside, rising to his full height.

"I'm sorry madam," he starts, voice dangerously curt, "But I've found I'm no longer in the mood to answer questions."

"But I've -- "

"First, you are a civilian. Speaking those words would be nothing short of sedition. Second, the Warmaster is either his title or Primarch Lupercal. You would do well to keep from addressing him so informally." And with that, Loken steps forward, forcing her back, until she's through the doorway. He slams the door shut in her face before heaving another sigh.

"Goddamn Remembrancers..." he mutters, turning back to the task at hand, "We should have left them behind when we had the chance..."

-

5\. if I asked you

Loken grinds his teeth at the plea. He, who held no faith in the divine, the occult... in anything but the scientific standard... had somehow been dragged along to a goddamn secret fraternity.

Aximand and Torgaddon are on both sides of him and he'd not be surprised if Abaddon is somewhere amidst the two dozen of their brethren. It's madness, all of it, even if the two of them insist it's nothing but pantomime. Cloaks, shadows, secret phrases, and impromptu meetings! Where was the legion coming to?

But as he's fuming and stewing over this turn of events, Aximand comes to sit by him. The other gestures for fruit and wine and sweetened meat to be brought to their table. One of the younger lodge-members gladly obliges. And then Torgaddon comes around, radiant as ever, and they make merry conversation and Loken finds himself four glasses down and sinking into the plush seats and --

He sits up, having nearly forgotten himself. He is not only a member of the Mournival, nor a captain of a company, no -- he is Adeptus Astartes and a Son of Horus to boot. He is better than this.

"What?" Aximand asks, dipping left so that he leaned against his brother. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Loken shakes his head. "It's just -- this. I don't need it. I can't have it."

"You might not need it," Aximand murmurs, leaning into him further, "But are you so far removed that you cannot imagine other people needing this?"

"What is 'this', exactly?" Loken demands, perturbed at his own lack of complaint at the other's proximity.

"Company. Brotherhood." Aximand yawns, "Friendship."

Loken exhales, soft and slow, before settling himself against the sofa once more. "It's not so bad," he admits, reaching for another stick of baked chicken, "But I'll not partake it too often."

"Neither do we," Aximand retorts. "But is once a month too much?"

"That's -- "

"Please?" Torgaddon interrupts, dropping down and grabbing at Loken's face, "For me?"

"For us," Aximand corrects.

Loken closes his eyes and lets himself be embraced. "Alright," he concedes, "Once a month would be alright."

-

6\. he who stayed

"Hear this now, Garviel Loken," Abaddon roared, "If you turn your back on us now, then I shall consider you an oathbreaker! We will be brothers no more!"

The title of oathbreaker is enough to make Loken freeze in his steps. He turns on his heel and marches back to the first captain, standing so that they were nose to nose. Or would be, if Abaddon didn't tower over him.

"I am no oathbreaker, Ezekyle," he snarls, "And you do me great injustice, with your assumptions regarding my loyalties. I was with you when we reached the Warmaster, I was with you when the doctors said there was no cure."

"Then stand with us here," Abaddon snarls, "You call yourself our brother, then prove it."

To their sides, Aximand and Torgaddon trade frantic glances. Aximand says: 'I didn't want this' and Torgaddon answers: 'No one did.'

"And then?" Loken demands, "After nine days, then what?"

"Then we'll mourn."

Loken clocks Abaddon on the face and screams _Blasphemer_ with more grief than rage. Abaddon curls his upper lip, the start of a cut lip bleeding.

"I will stand with you," Loken concedes, walking to the end of the line, "But it will be to welcome the Warmaster upon his return rather than to pre-empt his death."

Abaddon has never been happier to be wrong.

-

7\. and if you were to fall

Loken cannot believe what he is hearing.

Loken cannot believe where he is standing.

He is at a military tribunal, created for the purposes of ferreting out who, among the Astartes, was responsible for the most amount of civilian bloodshed while said civilians were attempting to block the way of the incapacitated Warmaster.

What he cannot believe is that _he_ is in the defendent's seat, while his brothers-in-arms, equally guilty if not moreso, are witnesses to the prosecution.

"And do you, Captain Horus Aximand" Varvarus, the bureaucrat, makes the theatre of asking, "Hereby swear that you saw Captain Garviel Loken kill innocent passerby en-route to the Vengeful Spirit?"

"I do, sir," Aximand says.

Loken stares, dumbstruck, as Torgaddon and Abaddon are called to bear witness as well. Like Aximand, they recite similar statements. Varvarus proclaims him guilty within the hour and Loken looks to the man with nothing but hatred, singularly blaming his machinations for the betrayal of his brothers.

Seated to the back of the assembly, dissociated but not quite absent, Horus Lupercal smiles.

-

8\. we'd meet at end and bottom

"Garviel!" Torgaddon cries out, not less than fourty-eight hours after the verdict. "Garviel, I'm so sorry!"

Loken dumbstruck a second time as his brothers burst into the gaol cell, speckled with blood and blazing burning eyes. But they're there. For him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, not willing to believe his eyes.

"Breaking you out, of course," Aximand says matter-of-factly.

"Varvarus is out of the way," Abaddon explains, "So you're a free man once more."

Loken stares, still stupefied.

"So that's it?" he demands, still in his spot.

"What's it?" Aximand asks.

"You -- you sell me out like that and you're supposed to expect me to crawl back to you? Just like that?"

"Oh Garvi how could you think that? We didn't want to, to go along with that ridiculous piece of theatre, but as none of us could act worth a whit and as you were the only one in the dark..." Torgaddon sighs, going over to pet his hair.

"Terrible inconvenience I'm sure," Abaddon drawls, completely unaffected by the waves of resentment rolling off of Loken, "Almost two whole days lost, however will you make up the time?"

"That's not the problem!" Loken growls, near-hoarse, even as Aximand heaves him to his feet, "It's -- the three of you -- did you have any idea how I felt then?"

"Oh Terra," Torgaddon pronounces, squeezing him close, "You're not just straight and narrow, but gullible to boot!"

"It's kinda cute," Aximand shrugs.

"Whatever," Abaddon shrugs, "Let's get out of here before we're all sent back."

Loken heaves a much-tortured sigh before relieving himself of his hatred. "Alright, let's go."

"Now that's more like it!" Torgaddon, of course.

-

9\. long overdue

The Warmaster himself visits him after Aximand and Abaddon have been tasked with the assault on Istvan III. Torgaddon has been asked to clean out the armory, a metaphorical slap on the wrist, while he has been sent to the meditation chamber for two days.

"Garviel," the Warmaster calls, and even after a solid fourty-eight hours of sulking, Loken cannot keep from turning to his voice.

"You called, Warmaster?"

"I did." Horus Lupercal steps into the isolation chamber, closing the door behind him before flicking on the lights. Loken isn't in a sorry state -- he reckons Aximand and Abaddon are worse off on the planet -- but his eyes betray him. They are gray like rain, filled with frustration and confusion.

"My son," the Warmaster murmurs, kneeling to sit beside him, "I know you are angry with me, but I did not wish this upon you."

At the Warmaster's favour and his plaintive tone, Loken feels a part of his ire melt away. Well, it finds a new target, at least.

"I could never feel any ill-will towards you," Loken murmurs, "But I grieve over the bloodthirst of my brothers. Abaddon and Aximand seek to lead you astray, sir, to say nothing of Erebus."

For the sudden fall from grace and secret company, it is the Warmaster's laugh which tells Loken he is still in good favour. "My dear Garviel, I do not think I tell you this enough, but truly, you remind me of Sejanus, though you look little like him. For Sejanus too, was always concerned with my well-being, to the point where I felt our roles were reversed, more often than not."

Thinking back to his best-beloved son and his vainglorious end sobers the Warmaster significantly. He places a hand on Loken's shoulder, pulling the other in close: "You have every reason to doubt Erebus. He encroached upon my dreams and thought to sway me to his side by wearing our dear Sejanus' skin. But he does not know the man as I knew him; I saw through him after our first conversation."

Loken's furrows his brows at this reveal, spluttering with bemusement.

"But -- but then -- why do you keep Erebus as council?"

"For the same reason I keep Maloghurst. It's best to have one's enemies close. Oh, don't look at me like that, this runs far deeper than you've expected. I'm honestly a little disappointed in you Garviel, though the confoundment is all my fault, for I thought you, out of all the Mournival, would have more faith in me."

"That can't be... for if not, then -- when we were on Davin..."

"The only weapon that might harm a Primarch is that crafted from the Emperor's hand," Horus shrugs, "It was little more than smoke and mirrors, though I knew of Erebus' plot to ensnare me, I had no idea how he would go about it. It pains me to have lost Moy," the Warmaster shakes his head, "I should have insisted on facing Temba alone."

"And then Temba...?"

"Oh, no, that was all true. The forces of the Warp do exist and it is through them that Jubal was changed."

"So then -- " the idea is so preposterous, Loken wonders if he's simply entered his own fantastical delusions while meditating, "Maloghurst and Erebus are...?"

"The two of them?" the Warmaster laughs, "I should hope not! No, as I see it, Erebus is looking to ship me off to his Chaos Lords, while Maloghurst and Malcador wish to rule the Imperium through taxation, picking away at our progress with their tonsils of bureaucracy."

Loken opens and closes his mouth multiple times. Nothing manages to make its way out.

And then, at last.

"Why are you telling me this?" he pauses, "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to believe in me, Garviel. I did not tell your brothers as much for they did not need it, but I see you are as wary as ever. There's no need to look so abashed I mean it as nothing short of a compliment, my son. Garviel, I need you more than ever."

To hear his gene-father speak of him in such a way... Loken feels the soreness from the past months wash away. "I had been such a fool," he mutters, hanging his head, "Such a hopelessly blind fool."

"No, my son," the Warmaster shakes his head, "You saw what you desired to see, and I cannot fault you for that. But will you make peace with your brothers now that I've laid the situation out for you? Can I count on your blade?"

Loken wants to lay himself prostrate at the other's feet, for the surge of _love_ that wells up.

"I will kill for the Warmaster," he answers, eyes glistening something fierce. "That, has never changed."

Horus laughs, standing up and pulling the tenth captain up.

"That's my boy," he praises, "Now come, we've a war to win."

-

10\. say yes

When Loken gives in to the truth he had been fighting tooth and nail to hold back, all hell breaks loose.

One of his teammates dashes forward, prepared to break his neck. Abaddon cuts between them, throwing the knight errant to the floor. Another one tries to perform a complex charm. Tormageddon takes care of him. Qruze is railing against him, calling him every wretched name under the sun. Aximand shuts him up the only way he knows how.

It's madness, absolute madness in the peanut gallery behind, but Loken cannot even be bothered to turn around.

Cannot look, because there, standing before him, as regal and _godly_ as he had always known his gene-father to be, is Horus Lupercal himself. And he is looking at Loken with unmatched affection, mixed between relief and pride.

At last, Loken takes note of the Warmaster's still-outstretched glaive and takes hold of it, allowing himself to be pulled onto the dais.

"Garviel," the Warmaster breathes, embracing him, "How good it is to have you back. How I have missed your humours."

"Lupercal," Loken breathes, eyes blurred with tears at the familiarity of the scene.

"My sons," Horus addresses the remaining crowd. Aximand and Abaddon look up from the bloodshed while Noctua and Kibre mop up the rest. "I would like to present to you Garviel Loken, our renewed tenth captain!"

Like all things declared by the Warmaster in his Court, the bystanders erupt in cheers and applause and no one is louder than his once-brothers. Loken turns to see similar expressions on their faces before stepping forward and raising his fist.

"Lupercal!" he hollers, and the court throws it back at him.

"Lupercal! Lupercal! Lupercal!"


End file.
